Category Archives: Memoir

excerpt from attempting to exhaust a place

Pick your own apples. Please
and

dare I gently kiss
October,

this isn’t the first time we’ve touched
with experimentation

and—today—
a unique sound.                                Fragrant world employing

a momentum from dark squeals
and

—lips that you can’t place
leading you closer

to some crazy
something you may or may not want

to find            ‘only in America.’
What is that cliché?

Sank you
with goodies for special interest

in a song like
‘In Love’ makes drowning

in grain an understated pleasure,
lets swagger slip in.

She’s more adventurous in bed
than health care

after hours and
the known moons must remain open

for you to receive any
or all of the rewards

which will be credited to
a fourth dimension beyond jeans. Don’t say a thing about

How I Lost My Body
unless

there is a sudden surge of rain
or shine

and laughter,
smoking on the balcony, love

is strange when lit up
like mistakes but basically

good. We believe there’s a
manual crammed with footnotes,

parenthetical asides
of love’s end                                                              come

to light, and I
could go on

and on but
there is only so much

time and I
have many things to forget

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Filed under Disaster, Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Friends, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, The Temporal Arts Collective, Winter

Sonnet XXXV

I know what I sound like, teach me how to
sing the limit of what we can imagine
Now that nobody sings anymore.

Give me something more
than what is here. Lend
the night a little dignity. I’ll pretend

the air’s full of your perfume
and thank the clouds
with their white kisses
of longing teeth and limbs.

I write your name over and over
in the margins
because I mouthed:
I want

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Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Form, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Winter, Writing

Sonnet XXXIV

Everything’s gray. Today is
February 17, 2012. It’s 5:43 p.m.
(It’s the hour of fallen leaves)
The clouds travel like white kisses

longing teeth and limbs.
I’m pretending the air’s soft and full
of your perfume.
Everything inside me wants to sing

when you do that loud thing
with your mouth gaping
Though I’m not certain I have the tone to sing

You, my song—All I’m certain of
Today is today. Yesterday passed. This I’m certain of—
I’ll love you upside down and backwards and forwards

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Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Form, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Winter, Writing

Valentine’s Day Sonnet

It’s February 14, 2012 9:29 a.m. EST.
The world looks all white and gray and
romantic I can see
each snowflake fall.

This is not what I write you about.
I work very hard not to let myself go. I can’t stop thinking I want to
say: I have this voice to sing and these lips
to kiss you. I don’t care which instrument

the weatherman uses to measure the snow fall
(see, I’m finally opening up) this morning
I’ll love you as snow loves rooftops and celebrate you
upside down—

 I want to do to you
what clouds do to the sky

 

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Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Experiment, Form, Memoir, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Winter, Writing

02/09/2012 Sonnet II

I consider myself very charming,
all humble and handsome,
effortlessly charismatic

—the days come along
one after another and everything
is gone—I am gone
Often I thought about the West, the day-to-day variation

of teeth inherited with a pain pouring
upon the poems—I’m trying to make
a fool out of myself.
I feel inadequate and constrained, Anne Carson

There’s no way to get it right.
Please explain it to me
before I go all Salvador Dali

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02/09/2012 Sonnet

I am delirious and I know it once I discover
myself, I no longer want
to belong—I am reaching towards the most noble

level of pain—me, I’m
down to prewar levels
                     . I spoiled
this city for myself.                                                    The days come along

one after another    and everything
is gone and I am gone
—bring me to tomorrow
to hear the thing that’s calling me

inherited with a pain to pour upon this book
with all those who need
a little light for the night—I’ll tell you all
I lack—(see, I’m finally opening up)

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(Re)writings of Neruda’s ‘Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair’

I forged you from the depth of the sun. Oh the light wraps your white thighs in roses. I am the stone of the night that you occupy though it is more used to my sadness than you are in this hour where your waist of fog and gold topples me in a quick raid so rich I want to say ‘Listen I love you, love me, follow me in the dying deep hours over fields of wheat.’ I have seen clouds travel like white kisses in the pulsing twilight wind. The earth sings through the rivers of your eyes and fruit falls from the sun

 

I have a language full of wars and songs and birds and flowers flee from me this morning is full of your murmur falling with the summer’s wind

 

I am drunk from the grapes of your eyes

 

You were the gray twilight, lunar, burning like summer. I love you when the night gallops near the sea still (come sleep on your belly here sweet and silent and land in my arms of flames), you are the endless rose and long kisses of darkness, and your slender thighs smell like the first star of summer

 

I cast embers of longings across your eyes the world dropped in the wet streets. No one saw us. Here I am saying I am of smoke and solar currents of bitter sounds like I am crazy I can say nothing of the other side of the moon of your kiss but here girl come smoke the blue twilight in the summer of these eyes let’s see how many stars I have lost and burned

 

I like the morning stroking you, turning like a butterfly your eyes seem to unwind the light over me. I will persist hunting the words that begun on your lips

 

I love your body swamped in the night and I want to be the morning star kissing your eyes with happy flowers and rustic baskets of earth

 

I will go through the white hills of your white thighs woman and hope I am as light as water still songs are drowned in dark hazels of your eyes

 

I rise and flash falling in the twilight of your hair and I am smoke signals near the roses in your lap I am the one who sings drunk with honey from your hips, I am the silent night that flutters in your lips, filled with rivers of song and kisses of shadowy longing

 

I am the sea that beats across your eyes and the currents falling in your thighs

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January 11th Sonnet

I cast embers of longings across
your eyes the world dropped
in the wet streets                               Here I am

saying I am of smoke, solar
currents of bitter
sounds                   like I am crazy

      I can say nothing
of the other side
of the moon
of your kiss                but here,
girl, come smoke the blue twilight
of these eyes

let’s see how many stars
I have burned and lost

(constructed from Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair)

 

 

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Sonnet XXXV draft

I like to think in hours instead of days.
What more can I tell you?
I’m a hard hearted old farmer I work very hard
not to let myself go                  I’m speaking
through the imperfect medium
of myself I am lonesome in Milford
filling my little notebooks
with these lines of longing                      I am all I am
comfortable with      lately
I breathe with care
—a little at a time                       I’ve thought
of writing you but I can’t find an adequate form
of expression and I’m still looking for it
—myself has never been myself

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Fourteen Word Sonnet

I
cast
embers
of
longing
across
your
eyes

the
world
dropped
in
wet
streets

 

(an experiment with Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair where I made a list of all words containing only one or two vowels and composed a poem from that last)

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